


in the past

by gotham_ruaidh



Series: Gotham Writes for Imagine Claire & Jamie [94]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 08:34:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16014242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotham_ruaidh/pseuds/gotham_ruaidh
Summary: Imagine that when Claire and Frank go to watch the druids at Craigh Na Dun, Claire goes through then and Frank sees





	in the past

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/178146675128/imagine-that-when-claire-and-frank-go-to-watch-the) on tumblr

Frank’s hand darted out to grab his wife’s wrist.

“What are you doing?” he hissed, teeth clenched.

“I can’t see,” she whispered, eyes teasing, tucking a stray curl back under her kerchief. “If I get on the other side of that big stone, I’ll have a better angle.”

Fifteen feet away, the women continued their slow, mesmerizing dance.

“All right,” he relented. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She flashed a smile, then softly stepped around him. Braced both hands on the tall stone, careful of the smaller rocks and bushes below –

\- and vanished.

Dumbstruck, Frank ran toward the stone, heedless of the brush and heather and sticks. Tripped and fell headlong to the ground, heart frozen in terror.

“Claire!” he screamed.

But still the women twirled, moving to music he couldn’t hear.

Somehow he scrambled to his feet – the knees of his trousers torn – and ran around the circle, looking behind and before every damn standing stone.

Still, she was gone.

So he beat the stone – the tall one – until his knuckles were raw. Eyes screwed shut in anger and terror and grief. And –

“Frank? Darling?”

He opened his eyes – dusk. The curtains with orange flowers ruffling in the breeze. The chenille bedspread artificially soft beneath his fingers.

The soft hand comforting his.

“Are you well?”

He blinked, fumbling for his glasses on the bedside table.

“I’m fine,” he coughed. “Must have dozed off.”

Sandy smiled, gathering his papers into a neat pile. “It’s so unlike you to just nod off like that. Looking through the Highland prisoner rolls, again? I thought you’d already exhausted that search.”

“Yes, well.” There it was – the yellow legal pad where he’d tracked James Fraser’s movements up to Ardsmuir Prison. “I found a fresh lead the other day – and I’m already so familiar with the material, it didn’t take me long to find the thread here.”

She held open his briefcase, and he gratefully slid in the sheaf of papers, pecking her sweet, sweet mouth with a short kiss.

“It’s past five. I would have woken you earlier – ”

“No, no – that’s quite all right. Bree has orchestra practice today. She decided on the oboe. Claire won’t admit it, but I don’t think the poor girl is any good at it.”

“I don’t see why not,” Sandy smiled, shaking Frank’s jacket and holding it out for him. “You seem to be able to carry a tune, at least.”

Frank’s smile was tight-lipped. “Well – chalk it up to yet another trait she didn’t inherit from me.” He bent to kiss her again. “See you tomorrow?”


End file.
